


Of Rian

by gamil



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:12:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamil/pseuds/gamil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a re-telling of Rian's life from after the Nirnaeth to her death upon the Hill Of The Slain. Hope you enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Rian

OF RIAN

Chapter One...  
"Of Darkness And Light"

There came a knock at the door. Not a hard rap but a gentle tap, as if the person knocking was afraid the noise would offend. Morwen turned to the sound with a scowl. It irked her to be disturbed mid afternoon when she had settled herself down to rest. "Come," she called, wondering what had occurred to break her rule of non-disturbance. The tapping continued obliviously, causing her scowl to darken. "Enter I say!" she called forcefully.

The door opened slightly and a low voice came through. "My lady," it said. "Forgive the disturbance but an urgent message has come from Lady Rian."

"Rian?" echoed Morwen. Her scowl turned into a frown. "What does she say?"

"Well...my Lady," stammered the voice, "she...says nothing. Rather it is..."

"Oh cease stooping by the door and come in, Taenon," Morwen growled. An elderly man passed through the doorway, gently closing it behind him. He was tall and thin, gaunt almost, with a sombre expression, grey hair and weary eyes. Morwen returned her gaze to the fire. It was late summer and warm outside, but lately Morwen found comfort in the extra heat. Perhaps it were her early pregnancy that brought on the strange craving. Or perhaps the heat was her way of thawing the cold of bitterness, grief and loss that was now prevalent in those lands.

"My Lady," said the old man with respect.

"Sit down and tell all," said Morwen. "And be plain about it," she added with a look.

Taenon took to a small stool by the dinner table and Morwen raised a brow. Her servants were tiresomely respectful of her to the point of foolishness. "Are you a boy of nine or a man of sixty two?"

"My lady?" said the flummoxed man.

Morwen sighed. "That is Turin's seat as you well know."

"Forgive me," Taenon replied, diverting himself to a more appropriate chair by the window.

"Now out with it," came her demand.

"Well my lady, it is old Olthor who works for lady Rian." He paused for no apparent reason.

"What of him?" pressed his lady.

"He has come with all haste and is full of concern," he added.

"About what?" Morwen delved.

"He says her ladyship has all at the homestead worrying," Taenon revealed. "She has barred anyone from entering her room and she refuses to eat."

"She refuses to eat?" repeated Morwen.

Taenon nodded solemnly. "It has been so for two days."

"Two days!" cried Morwen, swiftly rising to her feet.

"Olthor's words indeed, my lady," acknowledged the old man. "I chided him for not coming to you sooner..."

"Where is he?" asked Morwen as she made for the door. Taenon was right behind her.

"In the courtyard, all sullen with guilt and..."

"That will be all," said his lady as she exited the doorway in a concerned rush.

The westering sun cast its afternoon shadow over the courtyard and Morwen shivered a little in the cooling airs. She winced inwardly as she always did when she came out, for the courtyard was a mess. Tools and farming implements were piled in one corner and wooden crates were stacked in another. Upon the stone benches lay strips of leather and rusting pieces of metal for the smith. It looked more like a farmhouse shed than the threshold to the home of the lord of the House of Hador, yet it was Morwen's doing for fear of those precious household tools being stolen by the marauding Easterlings. They indeed gave the homestead a wide berth, yet Morwen had ordered the tool and supply sheds to be emptied and their contents brought to the courtyard for safer keeping. Necessity overruled tastefulness in these harsh times.

Before her, by the old cart stood the culprit with a bowed head and fumbling hands. "You there," she called as she walked up to him. "Olthor is it?"

"It is my lady," he replied with lowered eyes. He seemed petrified.

Morwen eyed the man darkly. "What is this I hear about my cousin and why was I not informed sooner of her condition?"

"My lady we tried..."

"But you did not try hard enough!" Morwen thundered, causing the poor man to whimper. She whipped around to Taenon. "Fetch me my shawl and follow after us," she commanded.

"Yes my..."

"And tell Hwineth to find Turin and bring him to the house. It is getting late."

"Yes my la..."

She ignored Taenon and wheeled away, but stopped short and turned back with an afterthought. "And if Turin cannot be found about the yard, he is probably at the sheds with old Sador."

"Certainly my lady, I sha..." It was too late, for his lady was already off down the slope towards the gate at a brisk pace with old Olthor limping at her heels.

Hurin's house stood upon a low hillock which itself rose upon the early slopes of the great mountains of Hithlum. The house was nestled in a mountainous corner where the Ered Mithrin came down from the north and met the Ered Wethrin as the range marched west. Beside its walls fell the skipping waters of Nen Lalaith, flowing from a spring high up in the lofty folds of Amon Darthir. And so Morwen came to the stream, where it flowed just beyond the gate of her home. A little bridge arched over it as it wound the base of the hillock, flowing westward and dipping into a shallow valley. By the gate were a few old men, busy with tools as they reinforced the wooden wall that had been raised right round the hillock. They all bowed low to their lady as she wordlessly passed by with Olthor at her tail.

"Where does she go?" said one in a low voice to his companions. "The afternoon is getting late and soon the surrounding woodlands will be perilous."

"Aye," another agreed. "Surely something is amiss to have her ladyship up and leave the homestead at this ebbing hour. Whatever trouble is afoot must come from Lord Huor's house, as that was old Olthor limping after her."

"To be sure," said the first. "I wond..." At that moment, Taenon came wheezing down the path with a shawl in hand and a sword at his side. The old timers looked to his coming with grave concern. "What news?" asked the first. Duron was his name.

Taenon passed the group without breaking his stride. He beckoned to them with his hand. "Two of you must follow swiftly," he called as he went. "Our Lady goes to see her cousin, the Lady Rian whom is out of sorts. The homestead is near but dusk falls and with the night comes its perils. Lady Morwen will need protection for her return."

The men nodded to one another. "I shall go with Maendir," said Duron to his fellows as he picked up his cloak and weapon, a sheathed sword whose rusty blade had seen better days. "Caenir and Ruithor shall stay to continue our work." He clasped the belt of the old leather scabbard about his waist. "Yet I would ask that you both remain here when you are done and watch for our ladyship's return." He swept his brown cloak about his shoulders. "Who knows how long we shall be. It may be dark ere we return to our gates and we would have friends to greet us." With that, he and Maendir started after Taenon who had passed out of sight among the greenery of the oak wood.

~oOo~

Morwen's mind was full of worry as she walked. Her pace was quick on the path that led north to Hithorn, the old market. Now it was deserted, or used by the Usurpers as a place for trading in slaves. The Easterlings had been but a few weeks in Hithlum, yet the devastation they brought to the women, children and old folk of the Edain was terrible. Morwen shuddered a little at the thought of the gruesome stories told to her of their cruelty. The young were enslaved and the old were turned out of their homes and left to starve in the wilderness. Their occupation of Dor-lomin was in full force to the north yet its feelers could be felt even there in the southern parts of the land. Nightfall especially brought evil to the once safe woods and travellers caught would be taken, and there robbed, enslaved or slain. And so the people of Dor-lomin shut themselves in their homesteads early and prayed throughout the fearful nights that the Easterlings would not come to ransack and plunder their homes and take them away.

Morwen turned to look back but could not see Taenon. Only old Olthor wheezing and limping in his pitiful effort to maintain her pace. She winced a little at the old man's ordeal. Yet she could not go slow. She did not know how long she would be detained by Rian's antics. Already her worried thoughts went to her son. Of all the things left to her, she feared for him the most. She had lost her daughter and husband. She could not bear to lose her son too. That would break her. Yet she had little choice, for Rian was family also and by all accounts, desperately needed help. And that meant leaving the heir of Hurin's house alone. She would have to put her trust in the old hands that remained to guard him. Their limbs might be wanting but their hearts were willing to defend her and hers. That desperate thought would have to suffice for now to quell her fears for Turin's safety.

Now Morwen reached the tip of the southern arm of The Fork, two long pine clad spurs that stretched out westward from the mountains of Mithrim, between which lay a shallow vale filled with oak, alder and elm trees. A path led away to the right, headed into the walled valley and Morwen took this way for it led directly to Huor's house. The Vale of Glirwen it was named, by Huor himself. The Vale of the Song Maiden. So he called it for Rian loved to sing and to make songs. Yet theirs had been a long courtship, for though Huor had made his feelings clear from the start, Rian had held back from him for many years. And when Morwen had questioned her as to why she denied such a worthy man, she said she was unnerved by the warrior in him. For Rian was gentle of heart and loved neither hunting nor war. But Huor ever held onto his love for her and in hope he built a great house in The Fork and filled the vale with planted trees and groves of bright scented flowers that were his lady's delight. Yet it was the threat of war that finally had Rian relent and agree to become his wife. For Huor sat long with her and spoke of the planned throw of the Eldar and Edain against Morgoth. And in sorrow he lamented her rejection of him who was going to war and could die unhappy and unfulfilled in love. Then Rian gave her consent, for she had loved Huor in spite of herself and realised her folly in having held back for so long. Thus they were wed two months ere he went to the Nirnaeth, and did not return.

Morwen shook her head as she came within sight of Huor's house. Before its high porch was laid a green lawn upon which were planted flowery avenues that were bordered by low cut hedges. The gardens were also ornamented by shapely ponds and a trailing rockery. The scent of citrus was in the air, coming from the orchard that was planted beneath the southern spur. It was a picturesque home indeed and fitting in all its quaintness for Rian who had taken immense joy in her new home. Yet Morwen had always voiced her distaste at the flowery decadence of the homestead. But now looking at the pretty garden and recalling the effort of patient love that had governed its making, she could hardly suppress the sudden emotion of grief that rose in her chest. She understood well Rian's sorrow, but she had to put a stop to it. She had to hold whatever was left of her family together in the face of the evils of defeat. She could be strong for them all but they had to help. They could fall but they could not be allowed to fall apart.

As she approached the house, aged servants began to materialise as if from hidden doors and recesses. They looked to Morwen's approach with wearied eyes that spoke of stress and sleeplessness. Morwen sighed her pity. How the proud people of Hador had been brought low. Yet she had no words of comfort for them. They had to endure and to tolerate. That was what they had to do.

"My lady Morwen," said an old gaffer as she climbed the steps to the threshold. "We are relieved to see you."

"Are you indeed?" growled Morwen in return.

"To be sure," replied the old man. "I fear our lady is stricken by a malady of grief that has overwhelmed her, and put her out of sorts."

"And why was I not told of this sooner?" Morwen demanded. "Two days! She has not eaten for two days!"

The servants all bowed their grey heads in collective grief. "Perhaps we are at fault," the gaffer admitted. "Our lady locked herself in her room retching and wailing, and though we tried to coax her out to give aid, it was to no avail. Thereafter a despondency arose that had us join our lady in her grief. And we all sat by her door, echoing her weeping and mimicking her despair. For how else could we support her? And not a morsel has passed our own lips save water only, in solidarity with her sorrow."

"Oh, where in all of you is the wisdom they say comes with age?" said Morwen as she pushed past the old bodies that crowded the door. "At least Olthor soon shunned your foolishness and thought to get help, even if he were two days late. Let me pass I say! I must see to Rian immediately." She entered the house, made her way up the stairs and swept down the corridor that led to Rian's quarters. The floor was a mess, strewn with blankets and pillows that piled up even to the bedroom door. The evidence of their solidarity with Rian's sorrow was pitiful. Morwen reached the door and raised a hand to knock, but she hesitated, suddenly fearful. She turned back and found the whole household amassed behind her, all tense and expectant. Turning back to the door, she gave a hard knock. "Rian!" she called. "Rian, open this door!" Silence replied. "Rian, open at once or I shall force an entrance!" Still no reply. Morwen's fears rose. She turned back to the crowd and withered them all with a stare of accusal. Yet swiftly were her glinting eyes dampened by the tears and sobs of the old folk. They were lost and confused by it all and did not need more blame to compound their innocent guilt. Morwen sighed. "Olthor!" she cried. "Where are you man? Ah, good. Bring some tools to force an entry here. Something heavy, like a hammer perhaps. Downstairs? Well bring it up, and be swift!"

There was a commotion as old Olthor made his way through the crowded narrow space. Morwen turned to the door and placed a gentle hand on the wood and brought her face close to the surface. "Cousin, do not let your grief ail you so," she whispered. "Would you leave me now after all we have been through?" She put her forehead to the planks and sighed.

"My lady," called a voice, "I have your shawl!" Morwen looked up and turned to it.

"Because it is of such use to me here," she quipped. Taenon's stammering was indecipherable.

"Make way," came a call. "Olthor has the hammer!" There was much jostling and squeezing before Olthor managed to extricate himself from the mob. He came forward with a heavy iron hammer in hand that threatened to topple him.

Morwen looked at him with doubtful eyes. "Have you even the strength to raise it?" she asked with concern.

"I shall do my best my lady," gasped Olthor with verve. He then raised the hammer with pitiful difficulty and swung. The strike took Olthor with it and both hit the wooden planks with a dull thud. The heavy tool then fell, clattering upon the ground and its wielder followed after it in a wheezing heap.

Morwen's annoyance was evident. "Could someone of less zeal and more substance come and break this door down!"

Suddenly, a voice sounded from within the bedroom. "Wha...what is this commotion outside my door?" It was faint and weak.

Morwen's eyes lit up and she pressed herself against the barrier that stood between her and her cousin. "Rian!" she cried. "It is Morwen. Open the door for me my love."

"Morwen?" came the faint reply. "Why are you here? I did not send for you."

"Rian, please. Open the door for us."

"Us? Who are with you out there?"

"I am with those who care for you. You are weak and sickly. You must let us in to aid you."

"I seek no aid!" came Rian's reply, suddenly louder. "Return to yours and leave me to mine. Let me die in peace."

Morwen's anger now rose, and she beat upon the door with frustrated fists. "Enough of your foolishness cousin!" she bellowed. "Open this door at once or see it brought down. The choice is yours."

"I care not," Rian replied. "Tear down my house if you will, for it no longer holds the joy and happiness it once brought to my heart."

Morwen shook her head and turned to the sorrowful crowd. "Taenon!" she called. "The strength of the well-fed is in you alone as all here are weakened by hunger. Come and bring this confounded barrier down!"

Taenon pushed through to his lady's side and aided Olthor to his feet. "Your gallant effort is noted my friend, but stand aside now and let me try," he said to the old man who nodded gratefully and backed away. Taenon then picked the hammer up and struck at the door with a hefty blow. It shook, as did the rafters and walls, but defied the iron. There was a second, a third and fourth blow yet still the door remained in place with but a few splinters that alone were proof of the violence done upon it. There was some murmuring from the crowd.

"Aye, that is Melben's work to be sure," said one in admiration. "The quality of his woodcraft has no rival." The comment was met by a host of affirmations.

Morwen stood glaring at them, then turned back to the door with clenched fists while Taenon leaned against the wall panting his weariness. Suddenly a laugh rose from within. It was almost a cackle of glee.

"Ha! Ha!" Rian rejoiced. "The sinews of my house will defy you yet!"

There were sighs and gentle shakes of the head from the servants. "Fey she has become," said some. "Aye, we are too late. Her grief has rendered her mind askew," murmured others.

Morwen's anger darkened at their words. Slowly she turned to face them. "Fey and askew you say," she hissed. "Ailments that I lay at your feet! Foolish dotards! What use are any of you? Huor left his beloved in your keeping but to what end? Is this the level of your service to him? To leave his wife to sickness and mutter about it in helplessness. Surely has the mighty House of Malach come to an ignoble end with such as these left to guide it! Yet a strain of the House of Beor yet lives, and such is its strength that even adversities such as these will be surmounted!" With that, she seized the hammer from Taenon and with a great cry, swung the iron. There was a ringing crash and a clatter as the hammer fell from Morwen's trembling grasp. The silence of amazement that followed was broken by a squeaking of hinges. The door swung wide open.

~oOo~

The bedroom was bright, for the shutters were open and the orange light of the westering sun tinted all with gold. The room was strangely neat too. Morwen had thought to find it in disarray, mirroring the mood of its occupant but this was not so. There was no clutter, there were no strewn clothes or blankets. There was no mess of sickness upon the floor or staining the cloth. Even the bed seemed well made, ruffled only where its occupant lay, tightly tucked in with her head rested upon a mound of cushions. It were Rian herself who broke the room's semblance of wellbeing. Her face was pale and drawn, with darkened eyes and colourless lips. She lay on her side by the very edge of the bed and beneath her head on the floor was a bucket. Morwen grimly surmised that the mess of sickness lay in it.

Morwen continued to stare, rooted to where she stood, yet the household slowly inched forward as one until they all crowded behind her, peering over her shoulders or crouching under her arms or by her hips in their effort to catch a glimpse of their lady. Rian wearily glanced back at her wide eyed audience.

"Must you all stare agape at me?" asked she. "Avert your eyes to my suffering I beg you. Let me retain some semblance of dignity as your lady."

Her servants heeded her request and immediately backed away. Tears renewed their flow upon faces and lips trembled as they sobbed. "Tell us what to do for you my lady," uttered some in their grief. "How can we lessen your pain?" muttered others. Morwen turned to them, thinking to be harsh again but the sorry sight of them tearfully bowing and kneeling in deference to their ailing lady quelled the thought.

"Dureth!" Morwen called. A sombre looking woman came forward, wiping her eyes with her apron. "Ready some hot water."

"Of course my lady," She turned away.

"One moment," called Morwen, who went over to Rian's bedside and took up the bucket. "Empty this and have it cleaned and brought back."

Dureth came to collect it, but took one look at Rian and burst into renewed weeping. Morwen ushered her out. "Taenon,' she said. "Have everyone return to their duties. I will take care of my cousin now."

"As you wish my lady," he replied with a bow.

"And I noticed the homestead lies open still, with naught prepared for safety or a defence of any kind. I would have chided those responsible but they have had enough of an earful from me today. However, that labour still has to be done and I would have you organise the beginnings of it."

"What would you suggest my lady?" asked Taenon.

"The same as protects us," replied Morwen. "A walled fence and sturdy gates will suffice. See whoever is in charge of building and form a plan. The work must begin tomorrow and all who can be spared must aid in this labour. The time for grieving is over. The Usurpers are coming."

Taenon nodded. "And I would have you know that Duron and Maendir are come, to serve as protection for the journey home."

Morwen turned to look at her cousin, who now lay back in peaceful rest. "I do not think I shall return tonight. Not until I am assured of her health." Her gaze dipped, expressing a look of troubled thought. Taenon guessed at her worry.

"Perhaps I can send them back home," he ventured. "They will watch over Turin with the others."

Morwen looked at Taenon and gifted him a rare smile. "I think that would be best." Taenon returned her pleasure, bowed and went off to deal with his duties. Morwen watched him go for a moment then closed the door and placed a chair in front of it to keep it from opening. She then turned to her charge. Rian's eyes were wide open and watched her intently.

"Now," said Morwen. "Whatever is the matter with you?" Rian did not answer. Morwen came and sat by her bedside, putting a hand to her forehead. "You are neither hot nor cold," she said, looking closely at Rian's face. "But you are pale and your features are drawn."

"Hunger will do that," said Rian.

"Then why starve yourself?" asked Morwen. "Why do such that serves only to add to our griefs. Have we not had our fill that you should become a nuisance to us?"

"Nuisance you say," Rian replied. "I did not ask you to come or even to be told of the goings on here. This is my home and last I checked I was its lady. I will do as I wish within my walls and need not the lofty disdain of Hurin's wife to chide me."

"And what will you have?" countered Morwen with a bright flash of her eyes. "The right to starve yourself to death, abandoning your household...and me?"

Rian turned her face aside. "You will not grieve or miss me much," she muttered. "Ever have I been too soft for you. A dainty baggage forced upon you by grim circumstance. How you have scorned my gentle temper in the past! I have been a care you could do without. But the husband who loved and accepted me is gone and shall not return. And so I would follow him and leave this unhappy world to those strong enough to endure it."

Morwen stared at her cousin for an incredulous moment, then slowly rose. Rian looked back at her with challenge in her eyes, expecting a tirade, but Morwen said nothing. She wordlessly turned, went to the door where she pulled away the chair and went out. She edged her way to the stairs where she grasped the railing and seemed to falter. "Are you all right, my lady?" asked a voice. It was a woman who clambered up the stairs with some clean sheets in one hand, and a bucket in the other. Only when she was near did Morwen realise who it was. "My lady?" the woman asked tentatively.

"Yes, yes Dureth, I am fine," Morwen muttered in reply. She gingerly took the sheets and bucket from the servant's hands. "We need broth," she said softly. "Make it chicken...Rian was always fond of chicken." The last part was whispered as her eyes glazed over with emotion.

Dureth looked at Morwen with concern of her own, but bowed low. "Chicken broth it is my lady," she said, before going off to make it.

Morwen turned to go back to Rian but halted, staring at the open door. How could her cousin say such hurtful things to her. That she did not care or that Rian had been a burden that was forced upon her. Her thoughts went back to their childhood days in Dorthonion. A time when they were surrounded by family. Merry feasting with parents, uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces. Bygone days of hopefulness and happiness. They had been together through it all, seen even as sisters, such was the love between them. To be sure, Rian had always been gentle at heart and so cherished all the more by Morwen. And when the horror and tragedy of war struck, Morwen had done all she could to protect her cousin. Looking out for her in all perils and upholding her when her brittle strength of spirit faltered. At times that had required a stern approach, so as to embolden Rian in the face of their adversities. And these were many. The great defeat of their House and the destruction of their realm. The deaths of their people and the grievous parting with their fathers. The hard trek to new lands and the bitterness of memory in exile. Through all of these things they had been together, for each other. And now Rian would throw all that aside with wild words that held no truth. Was it to hurt her? Well she had succeeded. Morwen clutched at her breast as the ache made her wince. Then, with a great sigh she closed her eyes and willed the pain away, and so returned her clarity. It were Rian's bitterness and grief that were lashing out and Morwen had been caught off guard, but the strength of will for which she was famed now arose to steel her. If Rian would collapse under her sorrow, Morwen would raise her up as she always had. And she would do it by any means necessary.

With that stern thought, Morwen marched back into the bedroom, closed the door and set the sheets and bucket down. Then she turned to tower over her cousin's bedridden form. "So you want to feel sorry for yourself and lash out at those closest to you?"

"If you are hurt by the truth, so be it." Rian replied.

"I was hurt," said Morwen. "But not by the foolishness you have spewed. I am hurt by your pain Rian. A pain that has you hopeless enough to want to starve and wither away. But I am strong. Strong enough for the both of us. That you know well. So I am here to tell you that you shall not waste away in your grief. I will not let you. I shall force you to face your pain and bear it as I do. For in the enduring lies hope beyond the darkness, where light unsullied still shines."

"Light?!" cried Rian with startling vehemence. "What light do you know of? Hardly have you partaken in it when joy and happiness shone upon you. For ever watchful have you been Morwen, awaiting the darkness around every corner and readying yourself for it. That is where you shine! That is when you have a purpose that makes sense to you. For in times of joy you are sullen and aloof. An awkward dullard among smiling faces. For you are incomplete. The merry parts of you are missing! Even as a child before the Bragollach you were ill-humoured and had few friends. You used to watch the rest of us play with pity in your eyes, itching to warn us that our joys would not last. No jest ever left your lips but always were you the herald of dark portents that lay ahead."

"And was I wrong in my predictions," said Morwen, bristling perilously.

"Nay you were not wrong," Rian replied. "And how satisfied you were when disaster finally struck, with 'I told you so' ever in your demeanour."

Morwen spun around and stalked about the room in a simmering anger. "Oh cousin," she seethed. "I pray it is the sickness that has addled your thoughts and makes you speak so to me."

"And why would I not speak so?" returned Rian. "I am weary of you."

"Weary of me?!" cried Morwen with blazing eyes. "So the ungrateful child says! For that is what you are and have always been Rian. A child. And I have had to put up with such for all these years. So I have been stern and joyless since childhood, what of it? I was ever watchful and thoughtful to our predicament when others ignored our peril. For we lived within sight of Angband. How could I fool myself into thinking that mattered not! We were born into a time of precarious peace whilst living in a land that faced the enemy. That was a truth whose reality soon overshadowed all, and swallowed whole the joys of the heedless. And if there were none like me, where would such as you be this day? How long would the remnant of our people have survived without those such as Emeldir the Manhearted to defy despair and lead us to hope. Yet I am proud to be of her kind! To be stern and strong. For it is through our efforts that the weak such as yourself cling to life. You who would have faltered and failed years ago. Oh, my poor Rian, can you not see that this has never been the kindly world you deserve. Even before the Bragollach, the Ard Galen was astir with patrols and many were the affrays at the front. And ever were the northern skies darkened by the broils and fumes of Morgoth. Indeed, how naive were such as you to prance and play with heedless abandon within sight of Thangorodrim. But I was never that foolish, or rather I could never afford to be. Yet through it all it has been my duty to watch over you, as a grim sentinel that guards the perimeter while gentler folk permit themselves to be joyful. That is who I am to you and others, many of whom are far more grateful."

Rian stared at Morwen with a steely glance, but swiftly her eyes began to waver and tear up. Morwen's words had touched a nerve and the bitterness faded, leaving her vulnerability to show itself. She began to weep with grievous intensity. Morwen choked back her own emotion and swept towards her cousin with open arms. "It will be all right Rian," she reassured in a cracking voice. "I swear it cousin, it will be all right."

The two women held each other in a tight embrace for a long while with comfort expressed and tearfully received. It was a soft knock at the door that finally stirred them. They looked at each other and Rian let out a gasp. "Cousin, are those tears I see trailing that tearless face?"

Morwen gave a hint of a smile. "Just for you Rian, just for you." The knock came again. Morwen wiped her face, rose and went to open the door. It was Dureth with a pail of warm water and bowl full of steaming broth.

~oOo~

Soon Rian sat propped up in her bed whose linen had been refreshed. She was washed and changed and now ate her fill of the Dureth's delicious chicken broth. Morwen sat by her bedside watching her eat with an expression of content. A vital change had already come upon her cousin, what with the healthy hue returned to her face and the clear sparkle in her eyes. Morwen had drawn Rian's dark hair back and brushed away the tangles, tying it all in a ponytail. Her cousin was indeed returned to her. Soon Rian put the bowl down and took Morwen's hand and looked into her eyes.

"Forgive me for all the terrible things I said," she began.

"How can I forgive what I have already forgotten," Morwen replied.

Rian shook her head. "I lashed out at you in envy."

"You are envious of me?" uttered Morwen in surprise.

"Of course," Rian replied. "Everything you said about me is true. I have always been too soft for this world and you have always been there to watch over me. To look after me. How I could throw that in your face is inexcusable. But I often wish I had your strength. That I was bolder than I am." She turned to thoughtfully look out of a window, as if recalling some distant memory. "Do you remember those unhappy days after the Bragollach. How desperate we were when Dorthonion was overrun?" Morwen nodded. "Remember the time Emeldir and a handful of women took to arms and joined in an affray near our hidden outpost?"

"As if it were yesterday," Morwen replied. "I recall it so because it was the day I took up arms myself and followed after them, hoping to join in the fight." She sighed. "I donned myself in an ill-fitting hauberk and a helm too big for my head. Then I stole a short sword and small shield from the armoury and I rushed off, following in Emeldir's wake. Soon I could hear the sounds of battle beyond the tree line and I was terrified, wondering what madness had me leave the safety of the camp to put myself in such peril. I lay low for a while, debating with myself and honing my courage. Then I finally rose, ready to throw myself into the fray, when a hand grasped me and held me back. I then turned to stare into the very eyes of Belegund your father. First, he clapped my head as if to beat some sense into it. Then he spoke to me and I will never forget his words."

"What did he say?" asked Rian.

"He told me that this was not the way I was meant to fight," Morwen continued. "He said I was to show forth my strength and courage in a different manner. To hold together the weak and easily dismayed with my steely will. That I had to look after you whom by hard fate were born to such woeful days. He said that would ever be my duty and purpose to you and our people, wherever we may be. Then he smiled and kissed my forehead. 'One day you shall have a son," said Belegund. "And when he grows into the warrior he shall be, may he have the courage his mother has shown here today.'And so I returned to our camp, deedless but enheartened."

"You returned alive and that was all that mattered to me," said Rian. "For it were I who betrayed you to my father. I saw you put on the war gear and was filled with terror. Luckily, my father had not yet gone to battle, so I told him of what you had done and he immediately went after you."

"You betrayed me?" exclaimed Morwen. But there was the beginnings of a smile on her face.

"Of course I did," replied Rian. "How could I let you go, you whom I loved most. I have always relied on you Morwen and I always will. And so I apologise for being the endless nuisance that I am. Say you forgive me."

Morwen leaned forward and kissed her cousin on both cheeks. "I forgive you my sweet," she said tenderly. Once more they embraced and then sat in comfortable silence while the birds chirped outside in the twilight.

Rian took the bowl of broth and finished what was left. It was her third helping. "All better?" asked Morwen with a smile.

Rian shook her head as she set the empty bowl down. "I can never be all better," she said solemnly. "None of us ever will." She sighed. "My grief is ever present and I am weary of the heartache. But at times I am overwhelmed, and fall into the abyss of despair."

"Yet starving yourself to death is not the answer," said Morwen. "Once before did we lose all that we cherished. Our homes and our loved ones were lost to us. But through the bleakness of defeat came our new life in Dor-lomin. And here we both found love and birthed hopes for the future."

"You birthed our hope," countered Rian. "Turin is a fine boy and a high doom awaits him, that is plain enough. But I held back from the man I loved, playing coy for years, only to realise the happiness from which I fled too late." She shook her head again in sadness. "Had he left a part of himself in me as Hurin did with you, would I find the grief of loss more bearable."

Morwen did not answer. What could she say. She had always scolded Rian for her hesitancy where Huor was concerned and had considered their short marriage a waste, what with the precious backlog of years of foolish denial that could have yielded the children she now craved. She looked down at her own womb in which grew her third child. Indeed, she understood Rian's sadness for her cousin was lonely in her grief in a way Morwen never was. For she had Turin to love and hope for in the face of the surmounting pressures of the occupation, and the grief of loss. Were she alone perhaps she too, for all her strength of will, would have succumbed to despair. Morwen looked up at Rian who was staring listlessly to the side. She then looked at the empty bowl and the empty bucket on the floor. What grief would cause her cousin to vomit. If it were a physical ailment that had made her sick, she would not have eaten so well, even after two days of hunger.

"When did you feel the need to eject?" asked Morwen, leaning forward as she eyed her cousin closely.

Rian turned to her, looking a little perturbed. "Why do you ask?" she queried.

"Just answer me," said Morwen with deliberation, and a glinting gaze.

Rian drew back a little with unease at Morwen's sudden intensity. "It has been three or four days now," she answered. "whenever I awaken in the morning. My insides are all astir and I hurl." Morwen seemed to be sitting still but Rian noted that she was trembling. Her unease was turning into fear. "Whatever is the matter," she asked meekly. She jolted in fright as Morwen suddenly grabbed her arms, crushing them with twitching hands. "Morwen, you are hurting me!" she cried.

"And you astound me!" called Morwen in return. "Have you bled?"

Rian heard the question but it took a moment to understand. When she did she began to tremble herself with breathless realisation. "No," she gasped. "No I have not. Do you... do you think..."

"Oh, do I think she says!" Morwen shouted, with tears of joy in her eyes. She then stood and pulled Rian up and out of the covers until she stood even on the bed. "Cousin!" she cried. "Did I not say it?! Did I not speak of hope beyond the darkness! How could you not sense it kindly child? To think that you would end your life even as it grows within you!" The two women looked at each other, weeping openly again. But these were tears of joy.

"Am I?" asked Rian with a smile like the glad beams of daybreak after a long dark night.

"Yes cousin," said Morwen whose smile of utter joy brightened the very room. "You are with child!"

 

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Author's Commentary:

Hie all! I've decided to write a story about Rian, from the realisation of her pregnancy with Tuor, to her death upon the Haudh-en-Ndengin. Hopefully you won't have to wait a year between each chapter. I'm really sorry about that but I hardly have time to write nowadays. Still, I shall try to put in a few chapters in quick succession.

As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Feedback is most welcome!!

Ta very much...


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